


Rest Stop

by Lightspeed



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Biting, Caught in the Act, Frottage, Hickeys, M/M, Public Sex, Quiet Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:05:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2331185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long road trip turned lurid conversation drives Demoman to demand Sniper pull the van over at the nearest rest stop.  They could have just gone into the back of the van, but that would be entirely too easy.  Demoman drags Sniper into the rest room instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest Stop

"We're goin' to get bloody caught," Sniper hissed, trying to bat away Demoman's hands as they unbuttoned his shirt, yet arching into the touch of his warm hands once they were on his skin anyway. The rest-stop bathroom was probably the least romantic place the randy Scot could have dragged him for a mid-roadtrip liaison, yet here they were, pressed into the first stall in the long row, the cleanest by a glance, with Demoman's lips closing on his neck as his fingers rubbed at the bushman's lower back in ways that only worsened the quickly rising pressure in his slacks.

"'s what makes it more exciting, boyo," Demoman teased, his voice a low murmur against Sniper's neck. And then his teeth were on him, biting gently, fading into rough suckling and licking of his sensitive skin, making Sniper's breath hitch as he tried to keep himself quiet.

"Ruddy piker," the assassin growled, clutching his lover's shoulders tightly, keeping him there, from getting away, no matter how much he protested.

Broad hands found their way to Sniper's fly, and with practiced ease, his trousers were open and being shimmied down his hips, quickly followed by Demoman's own. "Ye complain so much yet here ye are, tuggin' me closer."

"You're too damned sexy, it's not fair." Sniper pouted, whispering with a laugh, fading into a soft whine as that warm hand wrapped around his cock, pressing it against Demoman's, and holding them together as it began to stroke.

Demoman chuckled into Sniper's skin, sighing as he bucked into his hand, rutting against Sniper who quivered against the tile wall, clutching him for dear life. He could blame the Australian for this, with their conversation in the van, which had devolved from joking about the team and discussing their relationship and its qualities, to the bushman growling out lurid suggestions and commentary about their lovemaking from behind the wheel, tormenting the bomber for a good half hour's worth of vocal fry before he demanded they pull over at the rest stop. From there it'd been a short drag into the rest room to take care of his not-so-little problem.

The bed of the van would've probably been a safer, more comfortable location, but there was something charming about frotting in a rest stop bathroom. Aside from the hilariously unromantic, unsanitary setting, the extremely public nature of it sent a thrill through Demoman, the chance of being caught by some road-weary stranger sending blood surging south to pulse against Sniper's flesh as they rutted together in the cramped stall.

Sniper was unused to keeping quiet, the privacy his van afforded making him unaccustomed to modesty in the face of ecstasy. His voice grew louder as he grew nearer and nearer climax, his bright red face lolling against the tile wall, his body shuddering and barely holding together. He was such a ragdoll when Demoman grew dominant with him, the Scot couldn't help but find it adorable. His moans, however, grew too much, too loud, and he slipped one hand up to cup over the bushman's mouth, pressing down on his lips and trying to muffle him, Sniper's breath puffing over his fingers. "Yer so bloody loud," he grunted, licking his lover's neck where he'd brought forth a dark red hickey. "I can't stand it."

A laugh shook the bushman, before a thumb running over the head of his cock brought him back to Earth, to the heat and pressure gathering inside him, to the rough slide of his prick against his lover's, and the calloused hand that held them together. Sniper grew tense, relishing the ragged grunts and soft gasps the Scot was biting back just beside his ear, and before he knew it, he'd been swept up, the current taking him past the edge, and with a howl into Demoman's hand, Sniper arched up and came, coating the bomber's hand in his seed and dragging him over with him, earning a bite on his neck to muffle the Scot's moans.

"Holy shit!" a voice rang out in the ensuing stillness, followed by a flush. Fuck, someone had been in there!

Demoman grabbed hold of his trousers, hiking them up with one hand, snatching Sniper by the shirt with his other, leaving the dazed bushman to fumble with his own slacks and try and tuck himself away. He kicked out of the stall, hauling Sniper out and to the van in a flurry of frantic footfalls. By the time the other man in the bathroom had peeked out to see what had happened, all that was left in their wake was the free-swinging door of the first stall, its lock broken by the hard boot that had slammed the stall wide open in their escape.


End file.
